‘Oh, but I do, Leo darling, and as you have discovered I do a great deal that I should not. I always have.’
‘There is no reason why you should continue to perform these not very admirable acts.’
‘Leo, darling, I love the way you talk … as though you are addressing the House of Commons instead of your adoring wife.’
‘I am not sure that she does adore me.’
‘Leo, how can you utter such perfidy!’
‘She does not please me.’
‘How can you say that? Ah, I know what it is. You have another woman. Did I see you glancing admiringly at Wellington’s sister-in-law?’
‘You are being foolish now. She is an old woman nearly twenty years older than I.’
‘That’s no reason why you shouldn’t admire her. Papa always likes mature women. Perhaps princes do. Oh, Leopold, am I too young for you?’
‘Sometimes I think this inconsequential behaviour may be due to youth.’
She was angry suddenly. Was it true that he had liked Wellington’s sister-in-law? Oh, she couldn’t bear it! And she must go to Mary’s wedding. How could she possibly not see her poor old aunt, after waiting all these years, married to solemn old Silly Billy! She could imagine herself in Mary’s place for although she had not been serious, some people had thought she was.
‘I am going to Mary’s wedding,’ she said coldly.
Leopold stood up, clicked his heels, bowed and departed.
The first quarrel. She could not endure it. Leopold was displeased with her. He had never before looked at her so coldly.
Yet if I wish to go, I’ll go, she told herself. He must remember that even though he is my husband I shall be the Queen of England and he merely my Consort.
What should she wear for the wedding? A very special dress. Gold lamé – no longer silver because now she was a married woman.
But there was no comfort in thinking of her dress, no comfort in making Leopold realize that she would have her own way. In fact, she did not want her own way. In her heart she knew that she only wished to please Leopold.
Yet, I must remember that one day I shall be Queen and he must remember it too.
What a miserable day! He avoided her; and when she saw him in the presence of others he seemed aloof.
He was right, of course. The doctors had said she should not go. How foolish she was and how disappointed Leopold must be in her.
She called to one of her women: ‘Go and tell … go and ask the Prince of Saxe-Coburg if he will come to me here … as soon as he finds it convenient to do so.’
He was with her almost immediately.
‘Charlotte.’
‘Oh, Leo … dearest Doucement, how stupid I am! How right you were to let me know it. What can I say? I shall not go to Mary’s wedding. It would be such folly. Oh, Leopold, can you forgive me for my stupid ways?’
Leopold could and did.
He was grave and tender. He loved his dearest Charlotte more than ever; he admired her courage in admitting that she was wrong. He was so proud of her.
‘Then it is as it was … before? Oh, Leopold, that makes me so happy. I was thinking this … this difference between us Was going on and on and that nothing would ever be the same again.’
‘We must never allow differences to go on and on.’
‘We must never allow differences, dearest Leopold.’
He smiled his grave judicious smile. ‘They might occur, but let us make a vow now that we will never let the sun set on any misunderstanding … however small.’
‘Oh, do let us do that,’ she said, and they took their solemn vow.
So Charlotte did not attend the Princess Mary’s wedding to the Duke of Gloucester.
Claremont was the perfect setting for her idyllic marriage, Charlotte decided. Here she and Leopold could shut themselves away from the world and live, as she called it, like simple folk.
She wanted to live quietly, in a domestic fashion, she told Leopold. She wanted to know what went on in her household – like any housewife. He smiled indulgently. She was becoming more docile every day.
They had both loved Claremont from the moment they had seen it. The situation in the beautiful vale of Esher was perfect. The Earl of Clare had bought the estate from Sir John Vanbrugh and built this house on it, giving it his name. When Charlotte had first seen it she had run excitedly up the thirteen steps of the entrance. She had fondly touched the Corinthian pillars which held up the pediment, and she had known, she told Leopold in her impulsive way, that she had come home.
There were eight very large rooms on the ground floor and she had run through them delightedly. She felt like an ordinary housewife, she told her husband, choosing the home in which she was to bring up her family.
Leopold had restrained her in his usual tender way. She should be happy in her home of course, but it was not wise for the future Queen of England to think too frequently of herself as an ordinary housewife.
‘Nor an important prince as an ordinary husband,’ she went on. ‘And indeed you are not that. You are the best husband in the world.’
Then she was throwing her arms about him, kissing him there in the drawing room of Claremont where anyone could have seen.
She laughed at him indulgently. How she enjoyed teasing him!
Claremont, she thought, is the most lovely house in the world because no one has ever been as happy as I am going to be in it.
She loved the half-mile drive and the first sight of the house on a slight incline, she loved the island on the lake immediately inside the drive; she loved the old woman who lived in the lodge and who had been so terrified when she knew the Princess was coming to Claremont because she feared that she would be turned out. Charlotte had gone in person to reassure her, and when she discovered that she took pupils to help to keep herself and her blind husband, Charlotte’s heart was touched.
‘You will find me your friend,’ she declared, ‘and you shall remain here as long as you wish. It pleases me to see you so devoted to your afflicted husband.’
They were the happiest days of her life, she declared; even happier than those of the honeymoon. Then she had had to learn so much. Now she promised herself, she had learned.
She and Leopold were happy at Claremont. They lived as simply as possible. Charlotte drove about the countryside, interested herself in the people and was delighted when it was possible to bring some comfort to her poor neighbours. She even went to the kitchens and concerned herself with the buying and cooking of food.
Most of all she enjoyed looking after Leopold. He was amused by her fussing. She insisted on airing his linen. ‘How otherwise do I know it is properly aired?’ she demanded. ‘And do not forget when you first arrived you had that dreadful rheumatism!’ She herself would test the hot water which was brought for his bath, and very often when he went out shooting with the members of his household she would prepare the food he would have on his return. She took a great delight in combing his hair.
One could not of course live the simple life all the time. There were visitors from London including the Regent himself.
‘But,’ said Charlotte, ‘having had our ceremonies it makes me return all the more gleefully to the simple life.’
And soon she was happier still; for she discovered that she was to have a child.
‘This time,’ said Leopold, ‘we must make sure that nothing goes wrong.’
He lifted a warning finger, which she seized and bit – just to shock him a little and to amuse him too. For however he tried to change her, she reminded him, she would remain Charlotte, the impulsive hoyden.
He pretended to sigh and murmured: ‘I suppose it is so.’
She could not resist writing to Mercer now and then, for after all it was a habit of years; and Leopold had not said it would displease him if she wrote.